


Fly Away

by PotionChemist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Female Friendship, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Transfiguration (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23127295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist
Summary: One night, an old friend comes to Hermione Granger's door in the middle of the night looking for help, and she remembers their eighth year at Hogwarts.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59
Collections: Transfiguration: 2020 Round One





	Fly Away

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2020Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2020Round1) collection. 



> This piece was originally posted March 13, 2020.
> 
> Received 2nd Place in Slytherin Cabal's Death By Quill Round 1: Transfiguration
> 
> Thank you to smithandbarrowman for all of her help - she's truly the best.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Startling awake, Hermione Granger felt certain the sounds had been coming from her dream. She stood and stretched, ready to make the trek down the hallway to her bedroom.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

“Hermione? Are you in there? I need help!”

Eyes widening with realisation, she ran to her door. As she dismantled the wards, she said, “Just a second!”

Once she was able to, she pulled the door open, shocked to find Daphne Greengrass standing there in a dressing gown and bedroom slippers. “Oh, thank Merlin,” she cried, walking through Hermione’s door. “Can you put your wards back up? Quickly?”

Nodding, Hermione got to work.

Once the flat was secure, she turned to Daphne. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?” she asked, completely business-like.

Tears streamed down her face. “I’m not sure. Can you—”

“Of course,” Hermione responded, casting a diagnostic charm over her friend. As she read the results, her stomach turned. “Daphne, you’re sleep deprived, malnourished...”

“I escaped—” her voice broke, halting her words “—I haven’t been able to eat or sleep properly in weeks.”

Hermione met Daphne’s eyes. “All of this — it’s killing you. You know that, right?”

“I can’t marry him, Hermione.” 

* * *

_Two Years Earlier…_

_Checking her watch, Hermione saw it was half past three. She’d spent her Saturday in the library, enjoying the peace and quiet while the whole school was at the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch match. After studying for nearly four hours, she needed to stretch her legs._

_She rose from her chair and headed into the stacks to retrieve the book she needed to complete her Transfiguration essay. However, when she entered the aisle, she was shocked to see Daphne Greengrass wrapped around Neville, their lips locked and his hand up her skirt. A gasp and a gentle moan escaped the girl’s lips and Hermione knew exactly what was happening. Face flushing, she cleared her throat, and the couple quickly looked her way._

_“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need a book, and I thought it would be rude—”_

_Daphne’s foot, which had been braced on one of the bookshelves, quickly dropped to the floor, and Neville’s hand came back into view._

_“Hermione, I—” Neville began, but Hermione shook her head, silencing him._

_“No need for explanations. I’m just going to grab what I need and then you can carry on,” Hermione stated, moving closer to them and retrieving the volume._

_Daphne spoke next. “Granger, we’re not—”_

_“Have fun,” she replied, awkwardly ending the conversation._

* * *

Standing at the window, Hermione looked out into the night. The streetlight below the window was flickering, likely due to the maelstrom of emotions coursing through the witches stories above. Anger, sorrow, and despair swirled around the flat, messing with the electronics and seemingly speeding up time.

After Hermione had cast the diagnostic, Daphne collapsed on the couch, curling in on herself and crying. Mind racing, Hermione tried to think of ways to help her and figure out why she’d stayed away. They’d grown close their last year at Hogwarts and she’d made it clear she would always be there for her.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Kneeling in front of Daphne, she continued, “Please talk to me, Daph. What’s happened?”

The witch sucked in a deep breath before speaking. “I need to get away from him for good and you know I can’t break the contract.”

For the millionth time in the past two years, Hermione cursed pureblood traditions and marriage contracts. The old-fashioned customs should’ve died out centuries ago.

* * *

_A few days after the library incident, Daphne sat down next to Hermione in Transfiguration._

_“Why haven’t you told anyone?”_

_Perplexed, Hermione asked, “Why would I tell anyone?”_

_Daphne cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I was getting finger fucked by Longbottom in the library. Shouldn’t you be telling all your housemates what a slag I am?”_

_Laughing, she replied, “I’m sure all of my housemates have also been with Neville in one way or another this year. If anyone’s a slag, it’s definitely him.”_

_“So that’s why he was so bloody good at it. Plenty of practice.”_

_Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a giggle. Neville’s skills were becoming legendary and she could hardly believe he had been the awkward boy she’d met on the train all those years ago._

* * *

Hermione looked her friend over. Her long blonde hair, once so healthy and shiny, was dull and greasy. Blue eyes that used to sparkle were surrounded by dark circles, and she couldn’t quite tell if it was from exhaustion or the beginnings of a bruise. She’d always been thin, but she’d lost nearly a stone of weight that she hadn’t been able to spare.

“I need more information, Daph.”

Immediately, she shook her head. “No. I won’t tell you. I came here because I knew you’d have the best protection. It’ll buy me time.”

“Time for what?” Hermione asked.

“To convince you to Transfigure me, the way you used to back in school.”

* * *

_Hermione and Daphne were in the Shrieking Shack, drinking firewhisky and talking about all the boys who’d come back for eighth year._

_“Neville is so fucking fit,” Daphne groaned. “I had him down to his shorts in the broom cupboard on the third floor before Flitwick caught us. He’s all muscles and big hands and his cock—”_

_“Stop!” Hermione interrupted. “I don’t need to know about that!”_

_With an eye roll, Daphne responded, “Don’t be such a prude, Granger.”_

_Hermione smirked. “Oh, I’m not a prude. There are just three boys I won’t talk about in that way.”_

_Bouncing on the mattress, Daphne squealed. “Hermione Granger! Who have you been letting into those golden knickers?!”_

_Leaning close like she was going to whisper and reveal her secrets, she replied, “Oh, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”_

_As the room spun, they descended into a fit of giggles._

* * *

As her brain started replaying the memories of eighth year, Hermione wanted to cry. After the war, she’d been out of control, drunk on her power and intellect. She’d performed advanced spells simply because she could, regardless of what the consequences would be. 

Passing hour after hour in the Restricted Section, she’d eventually come across a book left by the Marauders. Even though she knew it was wrong, she tried out nearly every incantation in the book, usually on herself or Daphne, in the privacy of the Shrieking Shack. 

“Daphne, I can’t do that,” Hermione replied, her hands shaking. “I shouldn’t have done it then!”

Trembling from head to toe, another wave of sobs crashed over Daphne. “I know,” she choked. “I know it’s wrong to ask, but I need this, Hermione. I need help. He’ll never stop unless he thinks I’m dead.”

“And why would he think you’re dead?” 

Daphne chest heaved in laboured breaths. “Because you’re going to change me, and I’m going to fly away. I won’t ever come back.”

* * *

_Drunk off her arse, Hermione raised her wand. “Look what Padfoot taught me to do this week!”_

_With a quick flourish, she transfigured Daphne into a small owl. She could’ve been Pigwidgeon’s twin. The owl hopped around, flapping its wings and hooting in protest. Hermione just laughed and stroked its feathers, which were the same shade of golden blonde as Daphne’s hair._

_When that observation broke through the fog and into her brain, she panicked and changed her back immediately._

_“Holy shite!” Daphne exclaimed. “That was fucking bizarre.”_

_Hermione dropped to her knees. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have done that!”_

_“But it was amazing! Everything — all of the bad shite I was feeling and thinking about — it just disappeared! I was just an owl!”_

* * *

“I don’t understand.”

A shaky exhale prefaced Daphne’s words. “I can’t live like this, Hermione. I don’t love Greg. I don’t want to marry him. He’s cruel and he’s been… self-medicating since the end of the war.” At Hermione’s pointed look, she added, “Fairy Dust.”

Hermione’s stomach twisted. So many of their former classmates had sought numbness with drugs, and Fairy Dust was a powerful hallucinogen. There was a special ward at the hospital for overdoses and permanently tripping witches and wizards.

Continuing her tale, Daphne said, “He’s constantly high and rarely knows what’s real anymore. When he came home tonight, he was convinced that Voldemort was back and kept talking about how I needed to swear my allegiance. And of course he went on and on about how I had to beg for forgiveness for consorting with ‘Mudblood and Blood Traitor filth’ when I went back to Hogwarts.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t been sleeping because he keeps me up all night looking for Dementors or Death Eaters or fucking Blast-Ended Skrewts. I can’t keep living like this, Hermione.”

Taking a seat beside her on the couch, Hermione grasped Daphne’s hand. “And you won’t. I can go to the Wizengamot, tell them how unwell you both are—”

“That won’t help,” she stated. “They’ve never interfered with pureblood marriage contracts. It’s too messy and they risk pissing off the powerful families.”

A feeling of utter helplessness descended over Hermione. While it was unpleasant, she knew Daphne was right — the Wizengamot would always prioritize the peace between the old families over the safety and sanity of one woman.

* * *

_When Hermione arrived in the Shrieking Shack, Daphne was sitting on the bed, clutching a letter in her hand. Her knuckles were white and she was shaking._

_“What’s going on?” she asked, immediately worried about her friend._

_A half-empty bottle of firewhisky sat on the nightstand and Daphne grabbed it, bringing it to her lips. After two gulps, she handed the letter to Hermione._

_“It’s from my father.”_

_As Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth across the parchment, she felt sick to her stomach. Her friend — her beautiful, wonderful friend — had been betrothed to Gregory Goyle._

_Hermione was certain that he would never respect Daphne, never give her a chance to pursue her dreams of being a solicitor or allow their friendship to continue._

_“You can’t marry him!” Hermione exclaimed. “What if you married someone else? Today?”_

_Tears rolled down her face. “You know I can’t, Hermione. My father would have it annulled so fast I wouldn’t even remember it happened.”_

_“But what about Neville?”_

_Daphne looked at her with pleading eyes and shook her head. “I need to forget for a little while. I need to be numb.”_

_Hermione knew what she was asking for. She knew it was wrong, but her friend was in so much pain, and she knew what that felt like. She had the power to make it go away, even if it only lasted an hour or two._

_“Are you sure, Daphne?”_

_She nodded. “I trust you. You’ll always keep me safe. You won’t let me fly away.”_

_Unable to bear her friend’s sadness, Hermione waved her wand and watched as Daphne turned into the little owl, flying around the room and losing herself for just a little while._

* * *

“You realise that you’re essentially doing the same thing Goyle is, right?” Hermione asked. “You don’t want to feel, so you’re looking for an escape.”

Daphne shrugged. “Not really. Living like this — with him and no one else every single day — it’s killing me, Hermione. Of course I want to escape this hell, but not because I don’t want to feel. It’s because I’m on the verge of going completely mad.”

Hermione ran her hands through her sleep-tangled curls. “I want to help you, Daph, but this is a lot. You’ll never resume your human form?”

With a sad smile, Daphne looked at her. “I will eventually. Just not in England.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione waited for a further explanation. 

“Listen, give me an hour of brainlessness. After that, I’ll tell you everything and explain my plan,” Daphne pleaded. 

And, just like she had years ago, Hermione relented, freeing Daphne from her troubles by transfiguring her into the little owl once more.

* * *

_“Why won’t she meet me or talk to me, Hermione?” Neville asked, his voice filled with desperation. “I thought we were getting serious.”_

_She turned and tried to hurry away, but he grabbed her arm._

_“Please. I’m begging you. I know you know, Hermione!”_

_Taking a deep breath, Hermione counted to five before she allowed her magic to push him back. “She’s betrothed and she has no choice. Please don’t make this any harder for her.”_

_The look on his face broke Hermione’s heart, too._

* * *

When Daphne reappeared an hour later, she appeared determined.

“I taught Neville the transfiguration and reversal,” she admitted, and Hermione’s eyes widened. “I need you to change me — he knows what I look like as an owl — and send me to him. We’ll run away together. He told me we could.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Daphne, I don’t think this is a good idea. Do you honestly think your father and Goyle will stop looking for you?”

“I’ll transfigure myself every single day! I’ll change my eyes and my hair and wear different clothes. We’ll be in a different country, somewhere that grants witches asylum. I need to go before Greg and I are bonded!”

Again, Hermione stared out the window, her eyes fixed on the streetlight. She was looking for a sign — literally anything — to tell her what to do.

And when she thought of how shattered Neville had been when Daphne broke things off with him, she knew this spell could set two lives back on the right path. If she let Daphne go, they could both be happy.

“If I go to Neville, will you stay here, Daphne?” Hermione asked pointedly. “I don’t feel like I can just send you on your way without talking to him first.”

Daphne nodded. “Change me back. Put me in a cage. Whatever you need to do.”

And so she did.

* * *

_“Daphne, you need to talk to Neville! He’s heartbroken!”_

_Tears streamed down her friend's face. “I can’t! Hermione, I can’t face him!”_

_Wrapping Daphne in her arms, Hermione stroked her hands up and down her back. “I know it’s hard,” she began, “but you need to do it. He needs closure. If you’re really not going to fight your father on this—”_

_“It hurts to see him,” she cried. “I can’t. I can’t do this on my own!”_

_As she held Daphne close, Hermione said, “You don’t have to do it on your own. I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”_

* * *

When Hermione entered her flat again, Daphne hooted at her from her cage. She was relieved that Neville was on board — he had been offered a place in a Herbology mastery program in Brazil, and he would be leaving the country in a few weeks. The timing was uncanny, and Hermione decided to take it as a sign.

Letting Daphne out, she transfigured her back to her normal state.

“Go get in the shower and clean up. I’m going to make you something to eat before we talk about all of this,” Hermione said.

Obeying, Daphne moved to the bathroom, summoning towels on her way. 

* * *

_“Daphne, we can run away together,” Neville said, pleading with her. “You don’t need to do this! You don’t need to accept the life your father has planned for you.”_

_Sobs racked through her body. “The only way — and I’m sure he’ll say no — would be for Greg to refuse the contract. But Neville, he’s always fancied me. I’m sure he’s the one who initiated talks with my father.”_

_Off to the side, Hermione stood guard, trying not to listen. The pain in both their voices flooded her, though, and she wished she could do something to ease it. She’d do anything._

_As Neville tried to soothe her, Daphne grew more hysterical, and Hermione eventually intervened. “I’m going to take her to the shack, Neville. She needs to calm down. This is the only way.”_

_Resigned, he nodded, letting them walk away. Hermione heard him murmur, “I love you, Daph.”_

* * *

When Daphne came out of the bathroom, freshly showered and looking much healthier and happier, she asked, “What did Neville say?”

“He’s leaving Britain in a few weeks,” Hermione began, “and he wants to take you with him.”

A relieved smile spread across her face. “So what do we do until then?”

Setting a bowl of soup in front of Daphne, Hermione said, “Well, you can stay here, or I can transfigure you and you can move to Neville’s. He’s got roommates, so you can’t be there as you.”

“And you’ll let me stay?” she asked quietly. “Even though I’ve stayed away for so long?”

“I told you years ago that I’d be there for you, no matter what.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, both Goyle and Daphne’s father searched Hermione’s flat, always overlooking the little owl slumbering in her cage in the corner. After the first week of regular sleep and meals, Daphne only wanted to be transfigured when necessary, and Hermione was relieved. 

When the time came, Hermione looked to Daphne and asked, “You’re sure about this?”

“Things will be how they were supposed to be.” After a pause, she added, “You’ll visit, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m sure,” she responded. “Thank you for everything, Hermione.”

The two women embraced tightly. “Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

“As soon as you change me, I’ll fly away. Don’t try to stop me.”

Wiping a stray tear away, Hermione said, “I know.”

The sun was setting and Hermione knew Neville was waiting for her. They would depart in the morning, leaving behind all the terrible things that had happened in Britain. When she raised her wand and pointed it at Daphne, she smiled before transfiguring her.

The little owl gave a soft hoot and took flight, moving towards the future.


End file.
